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Updated: May 17, 2025
For Saturnalia it is, in most respects just like the festa of the Ancient Romans, with its Saturni septem dies, its uproar of "Io Saturnalia!" in the streets, and all its mad frolic. Truly, the ways of the Church are as wonderful as they are infallible! But all is over now.
We doubt if the picturesque can be profitably done by the job, for in aesthetics the proverb that half a loaf is better than no bread does not hold. An Italian festa, we suspect, if you make it a matter of business, will turn its business-side to you, and you will go away without having been admitted to the delightful confidence of its innocent gayety and unpremeditated charm.
It must have at least twenty-five members, and as we heard them at the Festa they seemed to play with extraordinary accuracy and expression. This Festa gave us a fine chance to see the people of the Ampezzo all together.
The purple peaks to the westward and farther inland, had a beauty of their own, and in the gentle curves with which they leaned towards each other, there was a promise of the flowery meadows of Enna. The smooth blue water was speckled with fishing-boats. We hailed one, inquiring when the festa was to commence; but, mistaking our question, they answered: "Anchovies."
"And where was the Lady Marina, the daughter of Messer Magagnati their lady, who had been good to the people?" "She was there within," some one answered, "she was not strong the salutes were too much for her. She was waiting within, with her maidens." "To miss such a beautiful festa!
Ah, how the bells were ringing Madre Beata! For such a festa as never had been in Venice! The hearts of the happy people throbbed to their rhythm, while each gave something to the splendor of the day were it but the color of a mantle, or the grace of a jubilant motion, or the radiance of a beaming face there was no festa in Venice of which the people had not its part.
'How fair those locks which now the light wind stirs! What eyes she has, and what a perfect arm! And yet methinks that little laugh of hers That little laugh is still her crowning charm. Where'er she passes, countryside or town, The streets make festa and the fields rejoice.
"Tutta gieja, tutta festa." So gay and airy it was in its ringing cadence that it seemed a musical laugh springing from sunny skies, and came fluttering into the dismal smoke and gloom of the mountain-top like a very butterfly of sound.
"And for the festa of San Pietro in Castello never, never name it to me!" "Santa Maria!" her companion ejaculated under his breath; "it is the women, the gentle donzelle, who are hard!"
Possibly Vere would play into his hands when they got to the festa. If not, he must manage things for himself. The Signora, of course, would make Emilio her escort. Vere would naturally fall to him, the Marchesino. But there was the fifth this Gaspare.
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